


Newton’s Third Law, or how Jim and Bones might be equal and opposite forces, but they always end up drawn together

by weepingnaiad



Series: The Stronger Pull 'verse [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: space_wrapped, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Isolation, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  Jim takes an assignment for Starfleet Intelligence even after promising Bones that he wouldn’t.  When Jim doesn’t return as expected, Leonard tries to keep the holidays for Eli’s sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newton’s Third Law, or how Jim and Bones might be equal and opposite forces, but they always end up drawn together

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** LJ user,abigail89, bestest beta in the West and South! Thank you, m’dear, for managing this at the very last possible minute.
> 
>  **A/N:** Fill for the LJ comm, space_wrapped, and for my h-c bingo square _isolation/accidentally locked in_. Hopefully this works as a standalone, but it’s set in my _’Stronger Pull’_ 'verse where Eli is Bones’ biological and Jim’s adopted son.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters and the worlds they live in belong to the Master, Roddenberry. I am only borrowing them so they can come out and frolic a bit, not intending any copyright infringement of any sort. I do own my original characters, but they are available for parties!

“Leonard?” Winona was still dressed in her science blues and only in that moment did Leonard look at the clock and realize the likely shipboard time. “Leo?” Her face moved closer to the console. “What’s happened?”

Leonard’s throat closed up, he couldn’t find his voice. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I need a favor, ma’am. I need your pull, your connections…”

“What is it? What’s Jim done now?” Winona settled in front of the comm and began unbuttoning her jacket, her eyes intense as she frowned at Leonard.

“I-I don’t rightly know.” He sighed and slumped back in the chair, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “He was called up, on some fool secret mission or something. Couldn’t tell me about it, but it’s been two damned weeks. He swore he’d be home by now.”

“Oh, Leo.” Her voice was pained, soft, her eyes filled with so much emotion that Leonard had to look away. “It’s Jim. He’s nothing if not a survivor. Do you have any information? Anything that I can go on?”

Her confidence helped him look up and meet her gaze. “He couldn’t tell me anything. And… we argued. I just… I was so pissed. He’d promised. No more missions and yet the first time they called, he leapt to answer.” His stomach churned as he remembered the harsh words, the angry, hurtful things he hurled at Jim, the accusations. And what if he never saw Jim again? Never got to tell him how all that was just his fear talking?

Winona bit her lip, then shook her head. “Leo, stop it. Stop torturing yourself. Jim’ll be fine. And you’ll be able to apologize in person.” When he tried to speak, tried to call up more of his own failings, she gave him a hard look. “No arguing. I’ll see what I can find out, but I’m not promising anything. SI is notoriously close-lipped about their work and this smells suspiciously like one of theirs.” She glanced at the clock in her quarters then tipped her head and smiled at him. “Look, the farmhouse is empty. Why don’t you and Eli leave the city for awhile. Enjoy the holidays where the weather’ll put you in the right frame of mind. We’re scheduled to be back early. We can celebrate Christmas together… all of us.”

“I-I don’t think…”

“Leonard H. McCoy, you are no good to anyone right now and getting away will be good for you. Just have Eli’s classes transferred to the unit at my house. I’ll send you the codes.”

Leonard tried to argue, to say that he needed to be here, that _this_ was home and that Jim would return here, but he couldn’t, wasn’t even sure that Jim would want to return to him.

Winona smiled softly at him. “Leo, just go. Don’t make me enlist Joanna’s help. The fresh air’ll be good for both of you. It’ll take your mind off things.”

He didn’t want Joanna dragged into this. Not yet. Not when there was nothing to tell, no news, good or bad, and just far too much silence. He met Winona’s eyes, knew that he’d give in, do as she suggested, although with Winona, that was too soft a word. “Okay. We’ll head out this weekend. That’ll give me time to get someone to cover my classes and shifts.”

“Good.” Winona lifted her hand to the screen. “He’ll be alright. He _has_ to be.”

Leonard lifted his hand to the screen, meeting Winona’s. He swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I’ll let you know whatever I hear. Kiss that grandson for me.”

Leonard nodded and continued to stare at the blank screen long after Winona had signed off. He was numb all over as dread seeped into his marrow.

~~*~~

Winona had been right. The farm was good for both of them. Eli loved being able to run in the corn fields, to go riding, to sit in front of the fire, drinking hot chocolate and roasting marshmallows. And even if there wasn’t snow, just crisp fresh air, Leonard could ignore his worry, tucking it behind happy memories of Eli’s bright, childish laughter and cold-tipped nose which he delighted in pressing to Leonard’s neck just to hear his daddy gasp.

The days were full and Eli never fought sleep as Leonard tucked him into his and Jim’s bed, cozy under Jim’s childhood quilt and safe under the stars on the ceiling. The sheer weight of Jim’s presence kept them both grounded and satisfied Eli’s need to be close to his Papa Bear.

And if Leonard’s smile was brittle and didn’t meet his eyes, Eli didn’t notice and Winona never commented, her own smile just a shade too bright and forced as the days drew on with no news forthcoming.

~~*~~

Jim paced the four by four meter room once again. By now he knew every crack in the ceiling, every divot in the too smooth walls, each irregularity of the floor, no matter how minute. He wished for dirt or critters, anything to break the stifling monotony of the sterile grey walls and constant chill on the air.

His captors had done a good job of following all the standard interrogation techniques: isolation, humiliation, deprivation. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn this was nothing but an elaborate simulation. Too textbook perfect to be real.

But it was all too real. He was in a holding cell on some god forsaken backwater planet, in nothing but boxer briefs, trying to count the passage of time by the water and nutrient tablets that came at irregular intervals. He knew he was under observation. He’d found the cameras soon after being tossed through the very real, and very thick, solid steel door, its final, resounding thud still ringing in his ears. The inventory of the room had kept him occupied while his bruises healed, but then the boredom settled in.

Jim kept moving, sparred with invisible Vulcans, used his body for resistance to keep it from growing soft. He’d be ready when they made the inevitable mistake. But gradually, even that routine failed to keep his mind off the silence, the jarring quiet. He meditated like Spock had taught him, and that helped, for awhile. But there was one fundamental balking him: Jim Kirk was not good in captivity.

He looked down at the PADD in his hands. Someone had compassion, or wanted him to reveal himself. Still the PADD gave him a chance to occupy his mind, to write down his thoughts. It might be nothing but a generic, off the shelf, low-end PADD, with only the standard apps on it, nothing to give any indication where it was procured, revealing even less when he hacked it, his attempts at rigging it failing each time, but it was a sweet distraction.

As the days – weeks? – dragged on, he had to admit that he might not get out of there. Only his contact on _Endicor III_ even knew where he’d been going, who he was to meet. SI would just write him off and Bones wouldn’t even have a body to mourn.

He slumped back on the grey bench, head resting against the grey walls, no amount of meditation dissolving the stone lodged in his gut, one word on his lips: “Bones.”

~~*~~

“Leo! It’s good to see you!” Uhura’s voice was bright and Leonard had to shake his head, still unused to seeing her in command gold. It looked good on her and she was a damned fine captain, better than Spock by a country mile.

He gave her a brief smile before sighing softly. “Nyota. I’m sorry for calling like this, but I need a favor.”

Uhura turned away from the screen for a minute, spoke a few words to someone, then waited. Leonard thought he heard the quiet whoosh of a door before she turned back to him.

“Leo. I-I honestly don’t know anything. And you know I’d help if I could.”

Leonard swallowed, a sharp intake of breath through his nose kept back the bile and he nodded. “I know, darlin’. I know you’ve done all that you can. I just… hoped. Do you know anything?” He didn’t want to sound so desperate, so plaintive, but he couldn’t help it.

Uhura slumped and bit her lip. She nodded. The request to switch to a secure channel came through in the next instant. Leonard returned the request, raw hope clawing at his gut as the picture re-focused.

“Oh, Leo. Dammit. It’s SI. They’re giving me nothing. Won’t even admit he was on a mission for them, but I did find out that he was in the Endicor system and missed his first check-in. I’ve done what I can, but Komack will have my hide if the _Enterprise_ abandons its post. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. At least I know where to start.”

“You can’t do that. Leo, you can’t!” Uhura’s voice took on a frantic air.

“I have to.”

“Leo, the Endicor system is wild. There’s no government to speak of and the Cardassians are encouraging it. They want a civil war so they can step in and take over. Jim’s not the first to go missing. Bandits and brigands are using civilians as shields, holding them for ransom. Besides, who would take care of Eli if you didn’t return?”

That was a low blow, a punch to the gut that Leonard didn’t need. He met Uhura’s eyes, anger mingling with the hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. That was low, but it’s no less true. Just give me some more time? I won’t abandon Jim. I promise.”

“It’s already been over four weeks, Ny. It might be too late.”

“Hey, this is Jim we’re talking about. It’s never too late.”

Leonard bit his lip and nodded, his eyes pricking. “Thanks, Ny. Give that green-blooded hobgoblin a hug for me.”

“Don’t give up, Leo. Not yet.”

He couldn’t speak, not with the fear clawing at his throat, so he just nodded as he closed the connection. Hope seemed an impossibility that he couldn’t count on any longer.

~~*~~

Jim’s dreams had been too vivid for too many nights and he began to worry, wonder about what kind of psychotropic they were pumping into the cell. He kept dreaming of sledding with Bones and Eli, of racing on horseback with Jo-Jo, snow covered plains flying beneath them, snowball fights, snow angels, and cuddling by a fire. An idyllic holiday, but one that wasn’t real, hadn’t ever been real, and now would likely never _be_ real.

There was a possibility that they weren’t drugging him. It could just be his lonely mind all too aware that he might not make it back home. And maybe it was just wishful thinking coloring his dreams, his heart knowing that he’d been too proud, too eager to get back out into the stars. But he knew regret when he woke up with the scent of cedar and smoke in his nose and the taste of Bones on his tongue, all of it vanishing as his eyes met cold grey stone.

The minute awareness returned, the dreams began to slip away. That was worse torture so far. It ripped him apart, tore into him, made him gasp and claw the air, desperately reached for Bones as the vision faded from behind his eye lids. That convinced him that there had to be psychotropics in the air and he fought sleep, tried to stay awake, to stave off the dreams that he could not bear their loss.

He lost count of the days, knew that he was well into his fourth – third? sixth? – week of captivity and the oppressive silence was wearing. The PADD was bursting with drawings for Eli, with all the funny stories that he could recall for Jo-Jo, and with far too many apologies and sonnets for Bones. He prayed that they’d get to see them.

He tried to believe that he’d make it back to them. He had to or he’d fall into despair and give up. The problem was that he wasn’t sure that his death wouldn’t serve both sides’ purpose better than his life ever could.

He wrapped his arms about his bent knees and stared at the PADD tucked in between his knees and chest as he scanned the drawings he’d created. He wasn’t an artist, couldn’t capture that ever present scowl that Bones wore when he was annoyed and Jim’s heart clenched when he had to fight to remember the color of Bones’ eyes. Were they closer to brown or green?

~~*~~

Leonard’s mood deteriorated as the weather kept up its steady grey onslaught, the ever present wind bringing nothing but biting cold and forcing them into idleness in the house. Eli was getting more keyed up as Christmas approached without snow for him to play in. Leonard’s mood was blade sharp and tinder quick and Winona chided him mostly with her eyes and rarely with a soft rebuke, but it was growing too much for them all. The very air crackled with expectation. It was Christmas Eve and there’d been no word from anyone for the past five days.

Leonard feared what that meant – they were waiting to give the final blow. Uhura and Pike were withholding the news that Jim was gone until after Christmas. A cold emptiness settled into his gut and he couldn’t shake it, not with all the bourbon in Iowa, not even Eli’s warm body snuggled in his arms before the fire could nudge the icy chill that had taken hold of his heart.

He stared into the fire, oblivious to his surroundings and wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t argued with Jim. If he’d told him that he loved him and needed him to come back home? Would Jim be here now?

A sharp nudge to his shoulder startled Leonard out of his dark thoughts and he looked up to see Winona looking down at him, her own worry etched heavily into her features. “Leo? Come help me with the pies.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I-I don’t much feel like baking, ma’am.”

Winona clenched her jaw and she wrapped her arms about her torso. She looked down at him, the blue of her eyes vivid in the multi-hued lights from the tree. “I didn’t ask. Now get your ass up off that sofa. It’s Christmas Eve, dammit, and I’ll not have it be a wake. I might have screwed up many things with Jim and Sam, but I kept Christmas and I’ll not lose it this year.”

“I’m sorry.” Leonard stood, his face burning with shame as he looked at this woman who’d lost so much, but was still standing, still fighting. He stepped around the sofa and wrapped her in his arms where she instantly melted into his embrace, her body shuddering with the force of the sobs she’d been holding back. Leonard swallowed and bit back his own tears. He refused to cry, refused to let the tears fall until he knew for certain. If he allowed himself to cry, then it’d be real.

It only took a few moments, but Winona pulled away, swiped at the tears on her face as she straightened. She sniffled and gave him a watery smile. “C’mon. I bundled Eli up and sent him outside. That won’t last long.”

Leonard followed her to the kitchen, standing there awkwardly until she pressed a rolling pin into his hand and pushed him toward the island. “I know you bake, Leo. Jim’s been telling tales of just how flaky your crusts are, so prove it to me.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m a poor imitation of my nana, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

Winona fiddled with the comm unit on the wall and soft music flooded the kitchen. Leonard lost himself in mixing and rolling out the crusts and soon enough he felt a nudge at his elbow. He stopped rolling and looked up. Winona held out a glass of eggnog. “Careful. It’s Tiberius’s secret recipe.”

He took a cautious sip and gasped as his eyes watered. But he grinned widely and took a larger drink. “It’s good. Should I ask what’s in it?” He chuckled at Winona who raised her glass to him and took a large gulp of hers.

“Nope. Just enjoy. Cheers.”

The music, the egg nog, and the soothing, repetitive motion of rolling out the crusts calmed Leonard’s nerves, dispelled some of the heavy melancholy that had been gripping him. He belatedly realized that both he and Winona were humming along with the music, their movements almost coordinated in the cozy kitchen. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork; the finished crusts, all perfectly laid and finger fluted to a perfection even Nana McCoy would be proud of.

Winona lifted the bowl of pumpkin pie filling over one crust just as the door flew open.

“Daddy! Nana! It’s snowing!” Eli burst into the kitchen and Leonard scrambled to help Winona hold onto the mixing bowl.

“It is?” Leonard grinned down at his son, whose eyes were gleaming, with his cheeks and nose glowing pink from the cold, one dark lock of hair escaping from his knit cap and falling into his eyes.

“Yeah! C’mon, Daddy! You gotta see! We can catch snowflakes on our tongue, and make snow angels, and build a snowman!”

“Whoa. Slow down, little man. Can’t do most of those things until it’s been snowing for awhile.”

“Go ahead, Leo. I can finish up here.” Winona nudged him with her elbow.

“You sure?”

“Of course. Can’t deprive my grandson of his first Christmas Eve snowfall.”

Leonard turned to Eli, chuckled at the way his son was so bundled up that he was starting to turn red. “Okay, out with you! Let me get my hat and coat and I’ll meet you in the front.”

Leonard was whistling as he tugged on his coat and hat. He stepped out of the door and looked up in amazement at the thick white flakes that were coming down heavily. Everything was sprinkled with powdered sugar, the snow glistening in the houselights.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Leonard laughed as he watched Eli try to make a snow angel, but he was struggling with his limbs in the heavily padded snow gear. “Hey, little man, there’s not enough snow for that yet!”

Leonard hoisted Eli up by one arm, his son’s bright grin lifting his spirits. “Stick your tongue out, Daddy!”

He emulated his son, laughing as they raced around the yard, each trying to catch the most flakes. Eli won, his eyebrows and lashes dotted profusely with white until he blinked and shook his head, the flakes disappearing in a flurry of fairy dust.

“How ‘bout we have some hot cocoa and get warmed up by the fire?”

Eli nodded his head eagerly and slipped his mittened hand into Leonard’s. They walked in silence; Leonard marveling how the thin blanket of white changed the very tenor of the world, muffling it, softening it from a bitter, frozen landscape into a sparkling wonderland.

In short order, they were ensconced in front of the fireplace, Leonard’s rich cocoa laced with bourbon and the smell of baking pies reminding him of his childhood holidays.

Winona stepped into the room with a cardboard box and canvas bag in her hand. Leonard wondered what she was up to, but said nothing.

“Eli, there’s a tradition in this house, started before your Papa Jim was born.”

Eli’s ears perked up. Anything having to do with Jim was immediate cause for his attention to be diverted from whatever he’d been doing. “What kind of tradition?”

“Well, did you notice anything missing from the top of the tree?”

Eli looked at the tree, stood mesmerized by all the colorful baubles and lights until his eyes reached the empty top. He looked back at Winona, his face quite serious and thoughtful. “There’s no top on the tree.”

“That’s right. And around here, the kids make the tree topper each year.”

Leonard got a lump in his throat when Winona sat down beside him and opened up the box. There, lying swathed in fluffy cotton were years of homemade tree toppers. The oldest ones were crude, ill-formed stars of colorful construction paper with more glue than glitter, but they had each been stored with the same love and care they’d been created with.

Eli’s eyes were wide as he looked at the assortment of stars and balls and angels, ooh-ing and aah-ing over each creation of Jim’s, until Winona pulled the last one out of the box. This star was elaborate, more a detailed galaxy of stars than a single bright one. The skill it had taken said that it had been the one Jim had made the year before he enlisted. And Leonard could imagine him concentrating on it, his tongue stuck out as he drew the galaxy to scale and tinted the stars the appropriate hues. Winona still cradled it gently, putting it back in the box as she handed Eli the canvas bag. “And here are the supplies, everything you need to make our shining star this year.”

Eli took the bag with solemnity and sprawled out on the floor, animatedly talking to himself as he planned to make the best star they’d ever seen.

Leonard looked at Winona, watched her fingers stroke over Jim’s last creation, felt his breath catch in his throat at the thought that Jim might never see this tradition passed on.

Winona met his eyes, reached out for him, entwined their fingers and squeezed his. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. _No news did not mean bad news._

He dozed on the sofa, lulled into a peaceful state by the fire and the spiked cocoa. Eli was finishing his star, its lines ruler straight and glitter bright. Winona knelt on the floor beside him, showing him how to use rolled up construction paper to make the base.

When he was done, Eli stood up, proudly holding his creation for Leonard to see. “What do you think, Daddy?”

Leonard stood and knelt in front of Eli, proud and so touched that Winona had shared this Kirk tradition with his son. “I think it’s one of the best yet, kiddo. Want some help putting it up?”

Eli nodded and stood still while Leonard gathered him up in his arms, holding him carefully aloft while he set the star in its rightful place. “Looks great!” Leonard twirled Eli down until he set him on the floor.

Eli looked up at the star, gazed at the still-open box, then down at all the gaily wrapped packages under the tree, before sliding his eyes over the heirloom nativity on a side table. Leonard suspected he was weighing wanting something more against still being ‘good’, but Eli surprised him.

“Daddy, do you think baby Jesus would give me a miracle if I gave him all my Christmas presents?”

Leonard blinked, dumbstruck, but Winona stepped in, ever quick on the draw. She likely had long years’ practice with awkward questions. She knelt in front of Eli, caught his hands within hers and had him look at her, eye to eye. “What miracle do you want, Eli?”

“I want Papa Bear for Christmas.”

Winona glanced up at Leonard, but he was rooted to the spot, his heart shattering as his vision blurred and he was gasping to force air into his suddenly flat lungs. Leonard’s face was a frozen mask as his mind skidded off the rails lurching for traction, for words. He thought he’d kept his fears hidden from Eli, thought he’d done more than go through the motions… And now it was all crashing down around his ears. It was cowardly, but he couldn’t tell Eli the truth, couldn’t do that to his son. Eli’d already lost one parent. Leonard couldn’t face going through that again. He turned and fled.

~~*~~

Jim was certain his food was drugged. He tried to go on hunger strikes, refusing all but the barest intake of water, but it never lasted. He would awake, an IV in his arm and a stasis lock keeping him from pulling it out. His captors made it clear that he had to live.

If he was slowly going mad, then maybe they thought he’d slip up and give them what they wanted. At this point he was afraid he might. He was hearing voices; laughter that was too familiar, voices singing carols, and a warm, rumbling voice that made his chest ache.

He struggled against the drugs, against the crushing silence, and wondered what Bones’ lips tasted like.

~~*~~

Leonard didn’t grab a coat, just ran out headlong into the heavily falling snow. He wasn’t aware of where he was rushing to, had no memory of stumbling blindly through the snow, never felt the biting cold stealing his warmth. The blood rushing in his head couldn’t drown out the echo of his last words to Jim,

 _”You couldn’t keep a promise to save your soul!”_

 _”Just fuckin’ go then, goddammit!”_

He finally stumbled and collapsed to his knees, legs too leaden to struggle any further in the steadily deepening snow. He dropped to all fours, numb hands uncaring of the snow as he gasped, his body turning to ice just as his heart had.

Time had no meaning as the cold seeping into his body thickened and slowed his blood. He kneeled up, looked around, then collapsed with a soft sob. He had made it as far as the stream.

It was a world transformed from their summer idyll, no longer green and lush with the water babbling as birds chattered in the trees, but most importantly there was no golden head bent down teaching Eli how to fly fish. Now it was a frozen white landscape, the stream silent, ice covering its surface and everywhere he looked all color and life had been leeched from the world.

“Oh, Leo!”

Leonard had no idea how long he’d been like that, barely registered the thermally heated blanket wrapping around him as he was slowly pulled up. His limbs protested and the world tilted crazily as he straightened. Some part of him recognized the confusion and disorientation of mild hypothermia, the numbness in his fingers making him wince at the possibility of frostbite.

Another part of him didn’t care, had given up, felt his failure keenly, thought everyone would be better off without Leonard Horatio McCoy, canker, poison to those he loved, destroyer of bright souls. He’d hurt so many already, starting with his father and carrying on through Jocelyn and Joanna, Van’elria, Jim, and now Eli would lose his beloved Papa Bear. Leonard moaned and stumbled, nearly felled by guilt and self-loathing.

But Winona was having none of it. She was not about to let anything like a six-foot nothing man stand in her way. She managed to corral Leonard into a responsive enough state so that he began trudging somnolently back to the farmhouse. He stumbled and she kept tight hold of him, somehow keeping them both upright as he glanced back over his shoulder. In the eerily bright light of the reflected snow, he swore he could see Jim standing there, thigh-high in the stream, the sunlight sparkling in his hair rivaled only by his blinding smile.

A bleak whimper issued from his lips and he stumbled again, nearly dragging Winona down as he slumped to his knees.

“Oh hell no!” He was pulled up again, his arm thrown over Winona’s neck. “You are _not_ giving up on me, dammit! Jimmy _will_ be coming home and you _will_ be there to greet him!” She stopped, forced Leonard’s face up, pinning him with her glare. “I’m not going to tell him that you gave up on him. Eli needs you right now and Jim will need you, so you just put one foot in front of the other right this instant and march yourself back to the house.”

Leonard obeyed. He didn’t remember the rest, couldn’t recall stripping off sodden clothing, didn’t really want to know how he ended up on the sofa wrapped up in thermally activated blankets with his hands and feet swaddled in thick, warm padding, the fire crackling far too merrily for as desolate and empty as he felt. He awoke slowly and blinked at the Christmas tree, its lights twinkling merrily.

He glanced at the chrono: 4am. Merry Fucking Christmas.

~~*~~

Leonard managed to fall back into a fitful sleep and didn’t notice the sunrise, the gradual increase in noise as the house stirred and the nearly painfully restrained squeal as Eli trampled down the stairs, only to be stopped by Winona and herded into the kitchen. The bright sun hitting his eyelids forced him to throw an arm over his face to block out the light. He laid there listening and, despite himself, a smile crept to his face. He could hear Eli’s voice vibrating with excitement, but Winona had him so involved in some activity or game from his stocking that he had almost forgotten the rest of the presents under the tree.

Leonard wanted to go back to sleep, but the laughter and giggles pushed him up and drove him to the kitchen. Luckily he was suffering little ill effects from his mad dash through the snow and he leaned against the doorjamb and watched.

Winona was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing faded flannel pajamas. They were too large and well worn with once bright ships on a faded blue background. Leonard remembered Jim saying something about the young Kirk family getting matching pajamas for Christmas and how Jim’s pjs never quite matched the rest until he got to wear Sam’s hand-me-downs.

Eli was wearing matching pajamas and Leonard suspected they were Jim’s or Sam’s and as old as the ones Winona was wearing. For the first time, he just stopped and allowed himself to be still, to take the time to watch Winona with Eli, to note how much patience she had and how happy she seemed to be to share all the Kirk traditions with his son.

He knew that Sam and Aurelan and their boys were so far away that they must rarely make it home, if at all, and likely never for the holidays. After all this was said and done, he would make sure Winona was more involved in their day to day lives. She had already given Eli so much. Just watching the two of them drinking hot cocoa, eating coffee cake, and solving a puzzle was endearing and Leonard found that he could hold onto a smile.

He pushed away from the doorjamb and walked into the kitchen. Eli turned and leapt out of his chair and into Leonard’s arms. “Daddy! Are you okay? I’m sorry I upset you!”

Leonard held Eli tightly clutched to his chest and buried his nose in his son’s dark hair, just inhaling the sweet smell of cocoa and cinnamon and he felt the heartbeat pressing against his chest. He swallowed and shook his head, fighting the wetness that threatened. “Shhhh, I’m fine, little man. Sorry that I bailed on you last night, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know. Nana explained. I miss Papa, too.”

Wiping his eyes carefully so that Eli couldn’t see the wetness, he set Eli back in his seat. “Can I join you? Or is that a puzzle just for two?”

“Sit next to me, Daddy!” Eli crowed and patted the chair next to him.

Winona stood as she asked, “Coffee or cocoa, Leo?”

“Coffee please, ma’am. And what is that delicious smell?”

Winona smiled as she fiddled with the coffee maker, an old one that used genuine coffee beans, nothing replicated for her. “Grandma Kirk’s sour cream coffee cake. It’s a Christmas morning tradition around here. Would you like a piece? If not, I’m sure I have eggs. I make a pretty mean ham and cheese omelet, if you’d rather.”

“The coffee cake sounds delicious, thank you.”

Leonard sat down and joined in until the 3D puzzle was completed and Eli was beaming proudly. He took a thousand holos of the rest of the day; from Eli opening his presents to cooking and sharing their dinner. Eli was uncharacteristically polite and subdued and Leonard fought to hold onto the joy and concentrate on the myriad of little, happy moments. The sight of gaily wrapped packages lingering under the tree made his gut twist, but he forced the ache away, refusing to dwell on it.

By Eli’s bedtime, Leonard was exhausted. He had talked to Jo-Jo over a poor vidcomm link and managed to tell her about Jim without giving away just how grim the situation was. The last thing he wanted was to ruin her ski trip, so he kept the call light and let Eli list each of his presents. He promised he’d keep in touch if he had any further news and then signed off, his back and neck aching.

Soon enough he was sprawled back on the sofa, Winona reading and Eli getting ready for bed. When his son bounded into his lap and begged for a story and then another, Leonard knew he was stalling.

“Hey, little man, you can’t stay up all night.”

“I know, Daddy. But it’s still Christmas for a few hours and I think Santa’s not done with our presents.”

“And just what makes you say Santa’s not done? I know you were good, but isn’t that pushing it?” Leonard knew he shouldn’t have asked the question, but it was too late once the words were out.

Eli rolled his eyes and snuggled against Leonard’s chest. “Because Santa didn’t leave you what you want.”

Leonard’s heart lurched. And how did he have _this_ conversation? On Christmas Day of all days? “And just what is it that I want?”

“Duh. Papa Bear.”

He bit his lip and had to look away, his eyes catching and holding on the snow that had started up again, big fat flakes swirling lazily in the night sky. Movement caught his eyes and he leaned forward, his heart leaping in his chest. Eli caught his interest, was almost immediately off his lap and flying toward the door, throwing it open before Leonard could stop him. “Eli!” he shouted.

When Leonard heard Eli’s shriek, he surged off the sofa, following, Winona hot on his heels.

Winona about knocked him over when he stopped on the porch, unbelieving his own eyes.

“Jim!” she cried out and grabbed Leonard’s hand, dragging him forward until he joined the pile of limbs surrounding Jim who was holding Eli in his arms and barely upright.

Leonard hesitated, his harsh words holding him back until Jim looked up from his mom’s embrace. He was felled by the need in those eyes, the fear, the worry, the remorse. “Jim,” he gasped out as he wrapped Jim and Eli up in his arms, his breath stuttering in his chest. “Jim. Jim. Jim,” he murmured brokenly as his lips slid over familiar skin and nearly full beard.

Winona urged them forward, pushing them up the steps and out of the cold and Leonard found that his legs barely worked. He stumbled up the stairs, but refused to let go. Jim clung back, the three of them were a mess, but Eli didn’t care, was just too busy crowing that Santa and baby Jesus had done it.

When the door closed behind them, a tearful, smiling Winona took Eli from Jim’s arms. Surprisingly, Eli didn’t fight. He just kissed Jim’s cheek before wrapping his arms around Leonard’s neck and whispering, “I told you, Daddy. Christmas wasn’t over.”

Jim smiled weakly and Leonard kissed his son before he watched them head up the stairs.

He turned back to Jim, who was staring at the floor, having made no move to step further into the house. “Jim,” Leonard urged.

Jim looked up. “Bones,” he murmured, his voice so quiet that Leonard barely heard the broken whisper over Eli’s delighted noises from upstairs.

“I’m sorry, Jim. Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” Leonard grabbed Jim, pulled him tight into his arms, just held on and did not catalog how much _less_ his arms held than there’d been.

Given permission, Jim slumped, almost fell into Leonard, his arms scrabbling for purchase and holding tightly even as he took great heaving breaths, huffing out his own apologies and begging for forgiveness.

Leonard had no idea how long they stood like that or how he had the strength of will to pull back and meet Jim’s eyes – those brilliant blue eyes that he’d feared he’d never see again. “Jim,” he breathed before gently cradling Jim’s face between his palms and leaning forward to kiss him softly.

Jim opened up, gave in, didn’t fight for control, just clung to Leonard, allowed Leonard to sweep in and claim him, tasting his fill. They were putting on quite a display in Winona’s house, but Leonard couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed to reassure himself, to convince himself that Jim had returned and this wasn’t some hypothermia-induced fantasy.

He finally wrenched his mouth from Jim’s, but rested their foreheads together, their panting breaths mingling. “Jim. Fuck.”

“Bones. I’m sorry.”

Leonard took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, nodding. “Me, too, Jim. I thought—”

Jim stopped him with a short kiss and a half smile. “Doesn’t matter now. I’m home. I’m _home,_ Bones.”

Leonard nodded, swallowed, and opened his eyes to the most beautiful sight in the universe – Jim’s blue eyes reflecting the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. “What happened out there, Jim?”

Jim shrugged and Leonard felt his muscles tense, saw the way his face hardened, closed off. “Can it wait?”

Leonard kissed Jim on the neck and whispered into his ear, “It’ll keep until you’re ready to tell me, Jim.”

Leonard felt the tension seep out of Jim, felt him easing as Leonard held him.

“Eli’s asleep and I’m not long behind him,” Winona said as she stepped off the stairs and put her hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Just what the hell happened out there? And who do I owe for getting you back to us?”

Jim shook his head, but didn’t move from Leonard’s embrace. “Mom. It’s SI. There’s not much I _can_ say.”

“That’s bullshit, Jimmy, and you and I both know it.”

Leonard dragged his eyes away from mapping Jim’s face, from noting each change wrought in the weeks they’d been apart, and turned to Winona even as he tightened his arms around Jim. He just got Jim back and wasn’t about to start interrogating him even if he itched to know.

“Mom,” Jim protested, but Winona leveled him with a hard glare.

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me, dammit! Whatever you were involved in went south and we could have lost you. I intend to make sure that SI doesn’t get away with that kind of clusterfuck.”

Jim nodded and wriggled in Leonard’s arms, turning to face Winona, but not letting go of Leonard. “Fine. Here’s the short of it: I was set-up. The Cardassians have someone on the inside and this flushed the snake out. I don’t know the details at SI, but in the end, I was just a pawn that my captors didn’t know what to do with. After a few days of interrogation, I was dumped into a cell on Endicor-7. In solitary confinement. End of story.” Leonard stiffened. Jim needed people, needed to be in the center of things. He did not do well in isolation and certainly not locked in a cell, alone.

Jim could read Leonard like a book and he turned, met Leonard’s concerned gaze with a matching one of his own. “I’m fine, Bones. No worse for the wear. Chapel checked me out on the trip home. I’m sure her full report will be filed by morning, if you must see it.”

Winona wrapped her arms around Jim and kissed his cheek. “Was it Marisou’s or Stewart’s team that’s been compromised?”

“Mom.”

“Can’t blame a mother for trying, Jim.” She smiled at him, the tension around her eyes finally easing. “So who do I thank for getting you out of there?”

“Pike ran the show, and believe me, I heard just how many hours he spent doing so.” He grinned sheepishly. “It seems the Yorktown was in spacedock for a refit, yet the Admiral couldn’t enjoy the time off.” Leonard could tell Jim felt guilty, but it wasn’t his burden to decide what Pike chose to do. Before Leonard could tell him that, he continued. “So, I think One deserves some chocolates, but I would have been on a mining vessel if Uhura hadn’t stepped in. She _is_ the one that loaned me her captain’s yacht with Sulu to pilot it and her CMO to look after me.” He shrugged. “SI would have left me there to rot. Would have been fewer questions. Pike wasn’t going to allow that.”

“And the long story?” Winona prodded.

Leonard had had enough. He was holding an obviously too thin and exhausted Jim who needed to recover, not to be interrogated further. “That can wait, ma’am. Jim needs rest.”

Winona’s sharp gaze shifted to him from Jim.

“Doctor’s orders.”

Winona gave him a small smile and respectful nod. “You’re right, of course. Sorry for pushing.”

“You wouldn’t be a Kirk if you didn’t push.”

That made Winona chuckle. She leaned and kissed both their cheeks. “You better make sure you hang on to this one, Jim,” she stage whispered.

Jim nodded. “I intend to, Mom.”

“Merry Christmas, Jim. Leo. Don’t worry about sleeping late. I’ll show Eli how to make a snowman in the morning.”

~~*~~

At the top of the stairs, Jim hesitated before moving to his old room. Leonard shook his head and pointed toward the guest room, but Jim just smiled, pressed a finger to his lips and silently opened the door. He ducked into the room long enough to tuck Eli’s covers around him and kiss his forehead. That simple act of love nearly broke Leonard’s resolve and he had to fight to keep tears from welling in his eyes.

He was grateful when their door closed behind them. He turned and began to strip Jim out of his heavy jacket. He was afraid of what he would find, but he couldn’t stop, needed to see Jim, to touch him, to know that this warm flesh beneath his palms was real, was Jim, and wasn’t going to leave him.

“Bones,” Jim caught and held him, and only then did Leonard realize that he hadn’t stopped the tears, only forestalled the dam breaking as silent wetness slid down his cheeks. He shuddered in Jim’s arms, couldn’t catch his breath.

Then suddenly Jim’s mouth was on his, hungry, wet, and warm. Leonard shivered and clung tightly, whimpering when Jim pulled away. “I’m here, Bones. You didn’t lose me.”

“Jim.”

“I know.”

Leonard didn’t have time to wonder how Jim was still so strong, how it was that he was flat on his back, half undressed in nothing flat. He opened his eyes and looked up at Jim perched over him, his pale skin flawless and his ribs more prominent than before, but he was still the most beautiful sight Leonard had ever seen.

Bones reached for him, needed to kiss those full lips that were curved up in a soft smile. As he tugged Jim down, their arms got tangled and Jim dropped to his side, laughing. “Bones, wait. Just… let me.”

He was so earnest, so hungry, Leonard tried to comply, tried to lay still and allow himself to be touched so reverently. But his patience was stretched too thin, his fear that he’d never have this again still so thick that he couldn’t lay back passively.  
Leonard reached up and cupped Jim’s cheek, dragged his fingernails through the fuzzy hair and smiled softly as Jim purred at the soft skritch on his skin. “Feel good, darlin’?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he murmured.

Leonard leaned closer, sucked Jim’s earlobe into his mouth before releasing it and whispering, “Let me, Jim. Let me make you feel good. Show you how much I love you.” He nearly choked on the last words as the close call stole his breath once again.

“Bones, show me.”

Jim’s eyes blazed with love and desire and the lust flaring in the heated depths wrought a fiery trail along Leonard’s skin.

Leonard surged up and pushed Jim over, seized his lips, dove into the kiss. Jim grabbed his biceps, his hands warm weights on his arms, holding him, grounding him as he lost himself in the familiar taste and feel. His tongue swept over Jim’s teeth, dueled with his tongue and teased his palate. He pulled back to suck on Jim’s bottom lip before pressing in again, over and over, never stopping, never gonna stop, _love you so much. Missed you. Need you._

Only when Jim wrenched their lips apart, did Leonard realize he’d been half verbal and near punishing with his kisses. Leonard dropped his head and took a deep, shuddering breath, his heart thundering in his ears. “Jim,” he groaned.

“I’m here. Not going anywhere, Bones. I love you.”

Leonard opened his eyes, and Jim was still there, beneath him, pressed close, not going away, his eyes so fucking bright.

Jim wrapped his legs around Leonard’s calves and stroked down his back, soothing, gentling, taming the fire in his body from an inferno to a slow boil. They had time. If his kisses were still tinged with desperation and his fingers pressed a little too hard, Jim just arched into him and kissed back with equal fervor.

Leonard mapped Jim’s body, slid his hands over the expanse of pale, soft skin, mouthing each freckle, lingered over the familiar scars, the beloved imperfections, until he teased first one nipple and then the other with teeth and tongue. He loved the sounds he could wring from just small nips to his nipples. It was slow torture to Jim, the sensation just this side of too much and Leonard used that knowledge to pull soft cries from Jim’s lips. Lips that he couldn’t stay away from. His descent down Jim’s body took ages because he kept being drawn up to kiss Jim, their tongues tangling wetly as they wrapped more fully around each other.

When his lips met Jim’s navel and began to worry the skin there, he smiled as Jim hissed, “Bones, dammit!”

Jim’s muscles were twitching and his hips shifting, pressing into Leonard’s chest. Leonard lifted his eyes and grinned. Jim was beautiful, his skin glowing, hair mussed and sticking up all directions, his eyes glazed and wild. “Want something, darlin’?” He pressed his palm to Jim’s cock still straining in his pants.

Jim’s eyes fluttered closed over a soft exhale. “Please.”

Leonard stripped him, took his time sliding palms along the revealed skin. He didn’t comment, but his hands lingered over the more prominent hips before stroking down lean limbs. He pressed kisses to sensitive flesh until Jim relaxed and dropped his legs open. Settling between Jim’s thighs, he buried his nose in wiry curls, cupped Jim’s butt and stilled, simply breathing for a moment.

The scent muted the raw edges, began to heal the jagged bits inside, and his conscience eased. He grinned into Jim’s groin, the smile heartfelt and calm. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he licked his lips and swiped his tongue along Jim’s cock. He held Jim down as he sucked the head in, teased the slit and slowly swallowed the length. He dropped his head inch by inch, his eyes wide open to take in the moment Jim gave himself over completely.

Jim’s taste exploded on his tongue and he sucked harder, slid up and back down, swallowing around the hard length. Jim was thrusting, still restrained, but increasing in depth, and Leonard squeezed his ass, encouraging. His own erection was painful and he reached down, opened his pants, freeing his cock.

He watched Jim, kept his eyes open as he sucked and teased. Slid off to suck just on the head and chuckled around it as Jim swore and twisted his fists in the sheets. With a slight drag of teeth, he took Jim in to the root, gratified as Jim arched up, his muscles coiled and tense. One warm palm rested on his head, stilling him, and Jim began to thrust, small movements that forced his cock deep into Leonard’s mouth. Their eyes locked, Jim’s wide and dark, so much emotion that Leonard nearly forgot to breathe. Moaning around Jim, he began to fist himself.

“Bones! Fuck!” Jim cried out as he came, hot come sliding down Leonard’s throat.

Leonard watched Jim stiffen, his head thrown back, lean body taut, every muscle and sinew in stark relief before his own orgasm slammed through him, the world going white as he came with a groan.

He laid there a moment, panting and boneless until he heard a soft chuckle. “That was over pretty fast.”

Leonard looked up and Jim was propped up on his elbows, his grin bright and infectious. “Shut it. Missed you.”

“Wasn’t talking about you… I was kind of too busy to notice.” His thumb stroked over Leonard’s eyebrow. “You planning on staying down there?”

Only then did Leonard notice that he was hanging half off the bed in a sticky, tangled mess. He chuckled and shook his head. “Guess not. I’d be cussing you and my knees come morning.”

He dragged himself upright. Found Jim’s discarded undershirt and swiped at the mess. When he turned back, Jim wrapped strong arms around his waist and rested his head on his shoulder. “Missed you, too. Only began to worry when I was having trouble remembering the exact color of your eyes.”

Leonard inhaled sharply, then breathed out. He wrapped Jim up and held him. “I’m here. Always.”

His confidence seemed to ease something in Jim and he looked up, kissed Leonard lightly before stepping back. “What do you say to a shower? And then maybe we’ll both have more stamina?”

Leonard chuckled as they walked to the attached bathroom, flipping on the light before stripping off his pants. “I’m not a teenager, Jim. I think it’ll take longer than a shower for you to get what you’re angling for.”

Jim shrugged and turned on the taps, stepping under the water while Leonard brushed his teeth. He watched Jim in the mirror and the familiar routine patched the last of the cracks in his heart.

If he held Jim a little too tightly while they slept and had to keep touching him for reassurance over the next weeks, Jim never said a word.

The End


End file.
